The Mechanical Crafter - Book 2 (A LitRPG series) (The Mechanical Crafter series) Read online

  © 2020 Ramon Mejia

  All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Reminders

  Chapter 2 - The Classy Goblin

  Chapter 3 - Possibilities

  Chapter 4 - Scavenger Research

  Chapter 5 - Hired Help

  Chapter 6 - New Acquaintances

  Chapter 7 - Mage Issues

  Chapter 8 - Crafter’s Paradise

  Chapter 9 - Level 5

  Chapter 10 - Dream big

  Chapter 11 - Specialization

  Chapter 12 - The Council

  Chapter 13 - Consequences

  Chapter 14 - Blacksmithing

  Chapter 15 - Competition

  Chapter 16 - A break

  Chapter 17 - Flintlocked

  Chapter 18 - Testing

  Chapter 19 - Goblin Conversation

  Chapter 20 - Building the Team

  Chapter 21 - Dungeon Level 6

  Chapter 22 - The Everwoods Witch

  Chapter 23- Realizations

  Chapter 24 - The Divas

  Chapter 25 - Boom

  Chapter 26 - Tipsy Miners

  Chapter 27 - Explanations

  Chapter 28 - Defense

  Chapter 29 - Crafting Help

  Chapter 30 - Troubling Rumors

  Chapter 31 - Level 7

  Chapter 32 - Training Grounds

  Chapter 33 - Magic Booms

  Chapter 34 - Parker

  Chapter 35 - Testing Parker

  Chapter 36 - Pet Upgrades

  Chapter 37 - Snow Trip

  Chapter 38 - Day before Deadline

  Chapter 39 - Loss

  Chapter 40 - The Witch versus the Troll

  Chapter 41 - With Great Sacrifice

  Chapter 42 - The Gnome Council Calls

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  Chapter 1 - Reminders

  “Firebolt!”

  The words I uttered shot a golf-ball-sized fireball from my outstretched right hand, sizzling through the air to land on the rough, scaly hide of a six-foot-long salamander with a pop. The creature spun and snapped its fanged jaws at me, and I jumped back, barely avoiding its maw.

  There was no time to infuse another spell, instead I grabbed the iron rod from my inventory and swung the four-foot-long weapon with as much force as my strength score would allow. The monster’s head snapped to the left as it was struck. The blow staggered the lizard for only a moment, then it growled and swiped at me with its front claw. There was a screeching sound as the claw scraped against the metal plating that covered my chest, and I was pushed back a step. I swung wildly with my weapon, trying to gain a little space, and I saw the iron rod connect with the creature’s neck. I was happy that the attack landed until I heard a loud snap. I stared at what was left of the broken weapon in my hand and groaned in dismay as I threw the rest of the rod to the stone floor. The floor boss, Smog, spun like a top and smacked me with its barbed tail, and the thorn-like protrusions dug into the wood frame beneath my plating, knocking me back a few steps and dropping my health by five points, a full sixth of my total.

  I raised my arms up to a boxer’s guard position in expectation of another attack, but Smog recoiled and hissed as my goblin friend, Greebo Kneecapper, lived up to his name and appeared from stealth, stabbing at the monster’s less-protected front right leg joint with his short sword. Green blood squirted from the wound as he pulled his sword out, and the monster responded by trying to take a bite out of Greebo. But the goblin was too quick, and its jaws closed on empty air. The salamander pivoted and tried to follow the goblin as he circled to the right of the monster.

  With the creature’s attention firmly focused on my friend, I kicked out at the salamander’s back left knee with my iron-clad foot. There was a crunch as the joint took the blunt force and bent inward at an unnatural angle, and while the attack didn’t fully disable the monster, it was slowed down enough for us to take turns attacking. Smog began spinning around in place, unable to direct its attacks at either one of us or to advance due to its broken leg.

  While I was not fast enough to avoid all of its attacks, I deflected most of them off the shield equipped to my left arm. Greebo, on the other hand, moved like greased lightning. He stepped just enough to the left or right to avoid the creature’s claws, teeth, and tail while constantly counter-attacking with his short sword and creating terrible, bleeding wounds.

  We relentlessly slashed and bashed the level boss from opposite sides, our attacks timed to keep it confused and to maximize damage, and the beast’s health continued to drop. As the giant lizard’s health neared zero, it opened its mouth and spewed out a thick disgusting black cloud. The world around me went dark as the cloud obscured my vision, and when I heard Greebo coughing somewhere nearby, I was glad that I didn’t have to breathe. I knew that he would be vulnerable as he suffered from whatever debuffs were associated with the dark cloud. I dropped the shield in my left hand and reached out blindly with my arms, grasping for the last place I saw the boss monster. The moment my left hand touched the scaley hide, I turned and lunged, my arms and hands fumbling to grab and hold onto the salamander. I heard the scrambling of taloned claws against stone, and then the snapping of its fanged jaws as it tried to twist and turn to get at me. Even as my gears and pistons struggled against the creature’s efforts, I knew I could not give up. I heaved backward with all the strength I could muster, throwing my weight into holding it until the cloud dispersed.

  It seemed like forever, but when the black cloud began to dissipate and my vision returned, I saw that I’d grabbed a hold of the monster’s left hind leg and pulled it off balance, forcing it down onto its stomach and dropping its head to the ground.

  “Dark Gods take you!” Greebo yelled as he waved a hand in front of his face, clearing the last of the smoke. When he saw that Smog was pinned down, he leapt forward as fast as lightning and stabbed the monster in the eye with a squelch. His short sword slid in up to the hilt, likely piercing the monster’s brain. Smog’s leg went limp in my arms, and I wondered if it was truly dead.

  You’ve killed a dungeon boss, Smog, Level 5.

  You receive 50 XP.

  The notification was a comfort since I knew that it wouldn’t appear unless the creature was well and truly dead. I dropped the leg and noticed the many gashes and scrapes along my iron-plated body. I checked my status and saw that I was down to only seven hit points, a mere 23% of my total. I shook my head, glad that I’d invested my class points into upgrading my armor plating from wood to iron. If not for that, I wasn’t sure that I would have survived the fight.

  I heard a shout and worried for a moment that we were being attacked but quickly relaxed when I saw it was just Greebo celebrating. “I did it! That was the last of the XP I needed, Repair!”

  I could guess what he meant but used Inspect to make sure.

  Greebo Kneecapperr />
  Level 5

  HP: 8/30

  Mana: 13/13

  “You made it to level 5! Congrats!”

  The goblin’s cheeks turned a darker shade of green, and he briefly smiled around a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Thanks. I put my stat point into intelligence. I figured we’d need all the brains we could get. And now that I’m level 5, I can go to the Scavenger Guild to get my class. I already have the coins saved up that I need to join.”

  I’d noted the change in the way he talked but hadn’t realized it had anything to do with his stats. I wondered if all the points I’d put into my intelligence had affected me similarly.

  Greebo looked up at me and held out a hand. “Thank you for helping me, Nuts n’ Bolts. I don’t know if I would have been able to earn enough money or get the needed XP without you.”

  If I could have smiled or blushed, I would have. But having a faceplate that didn’t emote was one of the drawbacks of the Metalman race. Instead, I gave him two thumbs up then shook his hand. “No problem, partner. I’d argue that you were determined enough in your goal that you would have eventually met both requirements on your own, but still, I’m glad I was able to help.”

  As I shook his hand, I noticed him holding his side with his other green hand, his leather armor torn from the claws of the now-dead boss.

  “You ok there, Greebo?” I asked, concerned for his health. I’d done my best to keep Smog’s attention, but I knew it had been impossible to stop the creature from attacking entirely.

  “That sorry excuse of a fake dragon bit me when I was covered in that terrible black fog. You mind healing me up?” he asked.

  Even though my mana didn’t recover particularly fast, I had just enough to cast one more infusion. I only had a few infusions: Firebolt, a combat spell which I’d picked as a reward from the witch Evanora Everwoods in exchange for a dark crystal; Light, which made a glowing ball of light; Thaumaturgy, which amplified sound; and, Minor Regeneration, a spell that increased someone’s natural healing rate. While I couldn’t target Greebo directly with the healing infusion, only non-living materials, my metal and wood body thankfully counted as such. I infused my right hand with the magic needed, my mana pool dropped by ten points, and the Powdered Sphagrium, the magical component of the spell, disappeared from my internal inventory. My right hand glowed as the spell infused into it, and then I touched Greebo and activated the spell. The glow transferred into the goblin, quickly spreading over his body. Minor Regeneration wouldn’t heal him up all at once like a priest’s spell, but it would increase his natural regeneration. It would take a few hours for him to fully recover his health rather than half a day or more like it would without the spell, and he’d also have to make sure to eat more to account for the extra energy used by his body, which made this a perfect chance to take a break from our dungeon diving for the day.

  He gave a relieved sigh as the spell hit him. “Thanks, Repair. I’m getting hungry. You want to call it a day?”

  “Sure, let's grab the loot and leave. I need to fix myself up too.”

  I saw him reach for the body of Smog and swipe, getting the loot from the monster. I emulated him, getting my share of the spoils, a Salamander Hide, and a tier 2 Monster Core.

  I stashed my share of the loot, picked up my dropped shield, and while we carefully made our way out of the dungeon, trying our best to avoid any of the monsters that may have respawned, I checked my own character sheet to see my status.

  Name: Repair

  Race: Metalman

  Class: Artificer Level 4

  XP to Next Level: 2047

  Weight: 140 lbs

  Carrying Capacity: 156/165 lbs

  Stat point Available: 0

  Class point Available: 1

  Money: 20 silver 15 copper

  AC: 15 (Iron Plating) + 2 (Shield)

  HP: 11/30

  Mana: 14/34

  Str: 11

  Dex: 10

  Con: 10

  Int: 16

  Wis: 10

  Cha: 10

  Traits: +25% Learning speed, Does not breathe, Does not eat, Does not sleep, Adaptable body. Not able to be healed with divine magic or potions.

  Skills: Blunt Weapons level 9, Unarmed Fighting Level 8, Haggle Level 2, Sneak 2, Trap Making 6.

  Abilities: Deconstruct, Repair, Fabrication I, Fabrication II, Magical Spell Scanning, Improve Armor, Infusion

  After my last level up, I’d invested my free stat point into strength to alleviate the issue with my limited carrying capacity and to give my melee skills a little extra damage. While I had more health and armor than Greebo, I worried about my poor skills. Greebo, unlike me, has lived on this world his whole life. He’s had a lifetime to practice and gain a variety of skills that made him a better fighter. Add to that the fact that he quite plainly had more experience at combat too. I, on the other hand, have only existed on this world for a few weeks.

  As we packed up our loot and made the trek out of the dungeon, I thought about how I’d gotten here. I’d died on Earth and was given the chance at a new life where I could fulfill my many regrets. Even though I knew that nothing was free and sometimes worried that there would be a cost to pay one day, I was still glad I’d gotten it. I’d even been given the chance to choose what I would return as. Out of the many races and options I was given, I chose to be a Metalman Artificer. The Metalmen were a race of artificial beings that didn’t have any biological weaknesses. I no longer needed to eat, drink, or sleep. Heck, I didn’t even breathe, which is the only reason that I didn’t succumb to the black cloud Smog spewed out. In addition, I was able to modify my body whenever I earned class points from fulfilling my Artificer quests. And, boy, did I like the Artificer class. In college, I’d been an engineering major for a little while, and I had always loved the idea of being a maker, a creator of wondrous things that helped the world. I wanted to make an impact in my new life, unlike in my last one where I gave in to idleness and self-doubt without ever fulfilling whatever potential I possessed.

  I had been given a chance at a new life, and I was going to make my mark on this world in a way that I’d been unable to before. So far, I've done well. In the time I’d lived here, I’d learned about my abilities as both an Artificer and Metalman, I’d fought in the dungeon that served as the core resource and XP production for this massive city, and I’d learned a little about the world I now lived in. More importantly, I’d faced my own fears and triumphed. Even with these new powers and opportunities, some part of me had always wondered if I’d run away from the dangers in this world and regress to my former self. I had almost died fighting one of the dungeon bosses, a massive Mutated Moleikin, and even though I could have run away and lived a perfectly peaceful life as a crafter, I hadn’t. I had faced my own fears, prepared a plan, and beat the monster in order to progress into the dungeon and obtain the herb needed to save Greebo’s life. It hadn’t been easy, but I now understood that nothing worth doing ever was.

  The light of the outside world brought me back to the present as Greebo and I walked out of the fourth level dungeon floor, which the two of us had completed in just under a week.

  The city surrounding the dungeon was a massive place that was something more like Harry Potter crossed with the Industrial Revolution, lots of magic that was combined with steel and steam power. The open market just outside the dungeon was filled with people from all manner of races: elves, dwarves, humans, beastkin, orcs, goblins, and some that I had no name for. They were dressed in all manner of clothes. Many adventurers wore swords, shields, and armor, but others were dressed in something resembling styles from the 1800s back on Earth. Women often wore long multilayered dresses and short patterned jackets, and men dressed in what I considered fancy attire: embroidered vests, crisply ironed shirts, long coats, pressed pants, and hats. Generally, it seemed like the upper class’s clothes were made of silk and rich soft cotton, and the common working man’s clothing was made of wool or linen.

  The so
unds of the city had become familiar, and I had learned to separate out the distinct noises. There was a constant buzz generated by the many people living, talking, and working around me, but in addition, there were also the creak and clang of armor and weapons, newsboys crying out on the street corners, the metallic clop of shod hooves on cobbled streets, and the jingle of harness as horses pulled carriages. I was glad that Metalmen did not breathe since I could only imagine how it smelled with so many bodies and animals in such a confined area.

  The cobbled streets were packed with carriages and carts being pulled by horses, and they were not always of the living variety. There was an assortment of artificial beings mixed in amongst the living people. Some were shaped like horses or unicorns and pulling fancy carriages, but others were large, hulking, human-shaped behemoths made of stone that carried around bulky loads. A few even resembled delicate snakes or ferrets, and they adorned the necks of elegant ladies like moving necklaces. Yet, in each case, whether it was a golem or a machine animal, there was no spark of sentience, and they were very carefully commanded by some living being.

  The sight of the mechanical horses that pulled the carts and golems that carried the heavy burdens of their owners reminded me of my own situation. Most people in the city viewed me as no different than the other artificial creations--a being of no thought whose purpose was to serve its maker without complaint. I wondered if I’d be able to reach my own goal, to be free. To do that, I needed to become powerful enough to win a competition that I knew little about against competitors I knew even less about. Each time I leveled up, it became more and more difficult to gain XP as the requirements increased and the monsters on each level of the dungeon became more powerful and more challenging. As I recalled the iron rod that broke in the last fight, it had also become apparent that, without better gear and more magic, I wouldn’t be able to reach those goals. If I failed, then I’d spend years as the property of the gnomes that bound my soul to this Metalman frame.